Samuel Brohl and Company

their respective careers without ever having met. Count Larinski lived in Vienna, Austria; Mlle. Moriaz never had been farther from Paris than Cormeilles, where she went every spring t

perseverance, he had succeeded in obtaining the appointment of an official commission to examine it. The commission decided that the Larinski musket possessed certain advantages, but that it had three defects: it was too heavy, the breech became choked too rapidly with oil from the lubricator, and the cost of manufacture was too high. Count Abel did not lose courage. He gave himself up to study, devoted nearly two years

t the College of France, was one of those savants who enjoy dining out; he had a taste also for music and for the theatre. Antoinette accompanied him everywhere; they scarcely ever remained at home except upon their reception evenings; but with the return of the swallows it was a pleasure to Mlle. Moriaz to fly to Cormeilles and there pass seven months, reduced to the society of Mlle. Moiseney, who, after having been her instructress, had become her demoiselle de compagnie. She lived pretty much in the open air, walking about in the woods, reading, or painting; and the woods, her books, and her paint-brushes, to say nothing of her poor people, so agreeably occupied

uch nowadays, and which may be called la maladie a la mode. He was obliged to break in upon his daily routine, employ an assistant, and early in July his physician ordered him to set out for Engadine, and try the chalybeate water-cure at Saint Moritz. The trip from

that he owed this mark of respect to Count Larinski; such duties he held to be very sacred, and he fulfilled them religiously. He was in a very melancholy mood, and set out for a promenade in order to divert his mind. In crossing the Plessur Bridge, he fixed his troubled eyes on the muddy waters of

udent of men played and lost. There remained to him just enough cash to carry him to Saxon; but what can be accomplished in a casino when one has empty pockets? Before crossing the Splugen he had written to a petty Jew banker of his acquaintance for money. He counted but little on the

is revealed to us a glimpse of paradise in a woman's face, and it was such a rare blessing that was at this moment vouchsafed unto Count Larinski. He was not a romantic man, and yet he remained for some moments motionless, rooted to the spot in admiration. Was it a premonition of his destiny? The fact is that, in beholding for the first time Mlle. Antoinette Moriaz, for it was none other than she who thus riveted his attention, he experienced an inexplicable surprise, a thrilling of the heart, such

ly impregnated with a touch of audacity; but she did not seek to appear audacious-she merely acted according to her natural bent. Observing her from a distance, people were apt to fancy her affected, and somewhat inclined to be fantastic; but on approaching her, their minds were speedily disabused of this fancy. The purity of her countenance, her air of refinement and thorough modesty, speedily dispelled any suspicious thoughts, and those who had for a moment harboured them would say mentally, "Pardon me, mademoiselle, I mistook." Such, at least, was the mental comment of Count Abel, as she passed close by him on leaving the chur

d it, and returned to shut himself up in his chamber, where he tore open the envelope with a feverish hand. Thi

LE C

deeply not to have it in my power to satisfy your honoured demand. Business is very dull. It is impossible for me to advance you another f

w you further perfect it, or it will explode whenever it becomes aware that any one is looking at it. This accursed gun has eaten up the little you had, and some of my savings besides, although I have confidence that you will, at least, pay me the interest due on

, turning round in his arm-chair, with a savage air, his eye fixed on a dist

breech-loaders, screw-plates, tumbrels, sockets, bridges, ovoid balls, and spring-locks? What fruits have I gained from these refreshing conversations? You foresaw everything, my great man, except that one little thing which great men so often fail to see, that mysterious something, I know not what, w

uble? He alone knew. When he had uttered the last words,

ot comprehend you, M. le Comte. The name you bear is excellent; the head you carry on your shoulders is superb, and it is the general opinion that you resemble Faust; but neither name nor head does you any good. Leave the guns as they are, and bestow your attention

t you left with me as a pledge estimated; it is not worth a thousand florins, as you believed; it is a piece of antiquity that has a

much respect, your humb

GULDE

r-sighted folks. "Ay, to be sure," thought he, "this Hebrew is right, I have lost three valuable years. I have had fever, and my eyes have been clouded; but, Heaven be praised! The charm

n in the mirror above the chimney-piece, an

e deep-set eyes, with dark circles about them; these hollow, cadaverous cheeks! The three years have i

, and wrote the

in the course of the day you have transacted a neat little piece of business, after having rubbed your hands until you have almost deprived them of skin, you tune your violin, which you play like an angel, and you draw from it such delightful strains that your ledger and your cash-box fall to weeping with emot

t rest; before the end of the month I shall have returned to Vienna, and will honour the dear little note. One day you will go down on your knees to beg of me to loan

indow, and leaned on his elbows, looking out. The first object that presented itself to his eyes was Mlle. Moriaz, promenading one of the long garden-walks, leaning on her father's arm. Ma

r carriage, resemble nothing I ever have seen before. I can well imagine that when she appears in the streets of Paris people turn to look after her, but no one would have the audacity to follow her. How old is she? Twenty-four or twenty-five years, I should say. Why is she not married? Who is this withered, pinched-looking fright of a personage who trots at he

garden had become empty, and that the musicians were playing out of tune. He closed his window. He gave up his plan of starting the next day for Saxon.

ry. He had looked upon this as a reserve fund, to which he would have recourse only in cases of extreme distress. Alas! there remained to him now only two articles of his once considerable store-the br

a vision of Mlle. Moriaz, and he repeated the words: "It seems absurd; but who can tell? The fact is, we can know nothing of a surety, and anything

auf nichts gestellt, Und m

the whole world is mine." Abel Larinski recited these lines with

s preparing for bed, when there came a knock at his door. Opening this, he saw before him a fair-haired youth, who rushed eagerly towards h

y, I am Camille Langis, son of your best friend, a young man of great expectations, who admires you truly, who

Moriaz, "although, to tell the truth, you have grea

d n

, I beg of you, where have you come from? I t

f being my aunt and the godmother of Antoinette-I beg your pardon, I mean Mlle. Antoinette Moriaz-informed me that you were in ill-health, and that your physician had se

ay one hotel de ville, one episcopal palace, one cathedral, and some relics of St. Lucius. To spe

arrive breathless from Hungary to

en, seating himself on the edge

red to take a favourable view of a case, he surely shou

her Antoinette, will you not?-after having consulted her, you told me that I was too young, that she would not listen seriously to my proposal, and you gave me your permission to try again in two years. I have employed these two mortal years in constructing a railroad and a

to his ear? You are wanting in respect for the Institute. Besides, my dear boy, people change in two years; you are a proof of it. You have developed from boyhood almost into manhood, and you have done well to let your imperial grow; it gives you quite a

er to me, I would be capable of doing anything agreeable to you. I would relieve you of all your little troublesome jobs; I would clean your retorts; I would put labels on your bottles and jars; I would sweep out your laboratory. I know German very w

give him my daughter. I could as easily dispose of the moon. Since

e permission to pay my ad

sent moment she holds in holy horror all suitors. She is accompanying me to Saint Moritz in order to gather flowers and paint aquarelle sketches of them. Should you presume to interrupt her in her favourite oc

e sure

ulphuric acid will

sent me back to Paris witho

ur good, and you know wheth

ill take charge of my interests

ill sound the premises, th

and that these tidings will be good. I sha

, for the love of H

id, with much emotion: "I place myself in you

usting Camille from the room. "One might se

ver has been seen. After breakfast they pursued their way farther, and towards four o'clock in the afternoon they reached the entrance of the savage defile of Bergunerstein, which deserves to be compared with that of Via Mala. The road lies between a wall of rocks and a precipice of nearly two hundred metres, at the bottom o

speedily

his music charming

ewer dangers to contend with in constructing his." Antoinette turned quickly and looked at her father; then she bestowed her attention once more upon the Albula. "To be sure," resumed M. Moriaz, stroking his whiskers with the head of his cane, "Camille is just the man to make his way through difficulties. He has a

red hood that she held in her hand, and scraping off with her finger some of the facing

t do not you too admire people who work wh

admire yourself

essity, and then I formed a habit which I c

a gesture of impatience. "What pro

I often th

at diplomacy. You have

t I have, through a let

do better to meddle with what conce

you have her co

er her own fashion. I read in your eyes that Cam

ow should I know? I only pr

t suppose-

thesis is the road which leads to science

e again interposed, "tha

y since then to correct that fault." Then playfully pinching her cheeks, he added: "You are a great girl for objections. S

even spare me on the Albula! You know that, of all sub

you of Camille as I might have spoken of the King of Prussia;

s silent for

very fond of Camille

-in-law you coul

not prop

sely what I fi

much of him, this Camille, supp

command, wou

curiosity of the thing,

en in servitude, I can scarcely emancipate myself in a day. However, since the g

he was ever so small, and he remembers me, too, when I was a tiny creature. We played hide-and-seek together, and he humoured m

s among the Magyars; tw

any authority over me. I intend tha

the pleasure of gove

ould only fall in love with a stranger

Viscount R-

in the world. You may be sure that there is not a single idea in his head that is really his own. Even his figu

quisite in the man whom you co

an who is not like all the other men of my acquaintance. After

e distance in advance. When he had proceeded about twenty steps, he paused, and, turning towards An

ery of this world. In our day there are no ro

rly head with an air of defiance; "and if you are wise you will not u

ed glance around him, and adding: "Thank Heaven!

proposed passing the night, as did also M. Moriaz. Of the conversation between Antoinette and her father he had caught only one word. This word, however, sped like an arrow into his ear, and from his ear into the innermost recesses of his brain, where it long quivered. It was a treasure, this word; and he did not cease to meditate upon it, to comment on it, to extract from it all its essence, until he had reached the first houses of Bergun, like a mendicant

e happiness of her subjects, and to be able to say: "It was I that hatched the egg whence arose this phoenix; I did something for this marvel; I taught her English and music." She had boundless admiration for her queen, amounting actually to idolatry. The English profess that their sovereigns can do nothing amiss: "The king can do no wrong." Mlle. Moiseney was convinced that Mlle. Moriaz could neither do wrong nor make mistakes about anything. She saw everything with her eyes, espoused her likes and her dislikes, her sentiments, her opinions, her rights, and her wrongs; she lived, as it were, a reflected existence. Every morning she said to her idol, "How beautiful we are to-day!" precisely as the bell-ringer who, puffing out his cheeks, cried: "We are in voice; we have chanted vespers well to-day!" M. Moriaz excused her for finding his daughter charming, but could not so readily approve of her upholding Antoinette's

admire a beautiful Epinal engraving; she would willingly have cut out their likenesses to hang on a nail on her wall, and contemplate while rereading "Gonzalve de Cordue" and "Le Dernier des Cavaliers," her two favourite romances. At Bergun, during the repast, her brain had been working, and she had made

ee if she needed anything, and, as she was about leaving her for the night, candle in hand, she

u speak?" rejo

raveller who s

t I scarcely l

eyes, nearly green, wit

! And his hair, i

brown, alm

exact; is it

triking, his figure singular, but full of character

as I noticed, that he was inclined to stoo

ney, greatly scandalized. "How came

y to retract. Good-night, mademoiselle. Apropos, did y

ct, I was quite sure that he would be back about this time, perfectl

es most tiresome fidelity; it is always the way, one never loses one's dog when one wants to lose him; and I think, moreover, that a woman

. "But you are always right. Has M. Langis forgotte

't know how, to be at present twenty-five. How resist suc

not marry for charity," replied

you he had a decided stoop in his shoulders. However, that makes small difference; if your heart speaks, I will

he must be a Liszt or a Chopin, and implored him to play her something else, to which he consented with good grace. After this they talked about music and many other things. The man with the green eyes possessed one quality in common with Socrates, he was master in the art of interrogating, and Mlle. Moiseney loved to talk. The subject on which she discoursed most willingly was Mlle. Antoinette Moriaz; when she was started under this heading she became eloquent. At the end of half an hour Count Abel was thoroughly au fait on the character and position of Mlle. Moriaz. He knew that she had a heart of gold, a mind free from all narrow prejudices, a generous soul, and a love for all that was chivalrous and heroic; he knew that two days of every week were devoted by her to visiting the poor, and that she looked upon these as natural creditors

ong masses of rocks, heaped up in terrible disorder. Arrived at the culminating point, Count Abel felt the necessity of taking breath. He clambered up a little hillock, where he seated himself. At his feet were wide open the yawning jaws of a cavern, obstructed by great tufts of aconite (wolf's-bane), with sombre foliage; one would have said that they kept guard over some crime in which they had been accomplices. Count Abel contemplated the awful silence that surrounded him; everywhere enormous boulders, heaped together, or

h, about which played a smile, at the same time spirituel, imperious, and contemptuous. Abel grew pale, and became at once convulsed with terror; he could not withdraw his eyes from this markedly Mongolian physiognomy, which from afar he had recognised. "Ah, yes," he said, "it is she!" He drew over his face the cape of his mantle, and disappeared as completely as it is p

an book, entitled "The History of Civilization, viewed in Accordance with the Doctrines of Evolution, from the most Remote Period to the Present Day." She neither had made much progress in the pages of the book nor in the history of civilization; she had not got beyond the age of stone or of bronze; she was still among primitive animal life, among the protozoa, the mo

e hood of Mlle. Antoinette Moriaz. A moment more and the berlin was gone; it seemed to him that the shadow of his sorrowful youth, emerged suddenly from the realm of shades, had been plunged back there forever, and that the fay of hope-she who holds in her keeping the secrets of the future-was ascending toward him, red-hooded, flowers in her hands, sunshine in her eyes. The clouds parted, the deep shadow covering the Vallee du Diable cleared away, and the dismal solitude began to smile. Count Abel arose, picked u

himself at the entrance of the village of Cellarina, about twenty-five minutes' walk form Saint Moritz. After taking counsel w

became worn out with his thoughts. Of what was he thinking? Of the cathedral at Chur, of the Vallee du Diable, of the tufts of aconite, the campanulas, and the meeting of the two post-chaises, one ascending, the oth